


Between the Stars

by the_nerdiestwitch



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crew as Family, Eventual James T. Kirk/Spock, F/M, M/M, Major Character Death (kind of), Other, Slow Burn, Star Trek: AOS, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:36:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nerdiestwitch/pseuds/the_nerdiestwitch
Summary: "Planets are crap. Everywhere are the same: some asshole thinks they’re on top, and everyone else is stuck licking the proverbial boot. Most people can stand it. But I want to be up there,” she says quietly, stretching her hand out towards the dark sky. “In the space between the stars.”





	1. The Only Genius Level Repeat Offender in the Midwest

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had in my head for a while, so bear with me as I pound it into readable shape. I gladly accept *constructive* criticism, as well as general comments. Thanks for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prologue of sorts.  
> Chapter Song: Chapter song: Tighten Up by The Black Keys

New kids are rare to rural Iowa. After all, what self-respecting parent decides to raise their child surrounded by corn when there are a million other cities, colonies, and planets that are so much better?

And yet the girl leaning against the chainlink fence and sipping a can of bootlegged beer is definitely new. She looks about Jim’s age, but he didn’t see her in freshman homeroom, so maybe she’s older. It’s hard to tell.

She catches Jim staring at her from across the street and waves him over. He approaches, curiosity beating out nonexistent caution. “You must be Jim,” she says. His reputation proceeds him.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Leah.” She sticks out a hand for Jim to shake, and he takes it. Her hand is rough and calloused, and her knuckles are equally scarred. “You don’t look like a trouble maker.”

He shrugs, brushing his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes. He needs a haircut. He’ll do it himself later if he can remember. “Looks can be deceiving. You don’t look like a freshman.”

“I try not to. So, you gonna show me where all the fun is or what?” She asks, grinning.

“I’d love nothing more.” Jim grins back.

 

  
Later, while they’re cruising down the dirt roads in her mom’s girlfriend’s stolen car (turns out boyfriends aren’t the only breed of crappy parent), Jim learns that this is her fifth home. Her mom moves around too much, dragging Leah along from colony to colony. She doesn’t say what her mom does, but from the way she says ‘job’, Jim guesses she doesn’t approve. She doesn’t expect to stay in Iowa long, just until her mom breaks up with this latest in a long string of lovers. Jim quietly hopes she never leaves; at least then he wouldn’t be stuck in this corn-filled hell alone.

 

  
If Jim by himself was a nightmare for the police, it’s worse with a partner in crime. Leah teaches him sleight of hand, and a whole new world of shoplifting under the hawkeyed watch of cashiers opens up to him. They steal cars from their parents and their teachers and anyone else who leaves theirs out, and they drive as far as they can before the gas runs out. When they do go to school they dominate the class with smartass comments and illegally sold answers to the next tests. They don’t use the answers themselves; Jim barely even has to try to pass, and Leah can match him point for point in any subject, and then some. They run a pattern of suspensions and detentions, but Jim’s legacy keeps him from expulsion, and teachers whisper about Leah’s ‘unfortunate circumstances’ and shower her with punishments and discreet appointments with the school therapist. She uses the appointment slips to start fires in the junkyard. For all his risks and reckless abandon, Jim wisely doesn’t ask. Instead, he races behind her, laughing, and neither of them looks back.

 

  
Spring break rolls around, and Jim and Leah make plans to sneak into the nearby Starfleet shipyard. Jim steals the old motorcycle from his mom’s shed, the one he’s never supposed to touch and rides out to the fence. He goes slow since he’s never ridden before, and it’s nearly midnight when he reaches the shipyard. Leah is there waiting for him, leaning against the fence and crushing a beer can under her boot.

The minute she sees the bike, her eyes light up. “Move,” she commands, and Jim scoots back obligingly. She swings a long leg over the seat and guns the engine like she’s done it all her life. Jim has just enough time to reach his arms around her waist before they’re off, riding away from the fading shipyard lights.

Their plans are abandoned cold, but Jim doesn’t care. This feels right; his hands curled into her cracked leather jacket, the wind whipping his just-shoulder length hair back into his face, the bike roaring into the night like a lion.

 

  
It’s all cornfields for miles. He’s not sure how far they’ve gone, but by the time they stop the farms have transformed into patches of woods in between fields of wild grass. They find a barn, long abandoned in a clearing of trees. Winter lingers in the air, so Jim lights a fire under the half-collapsed roof while Leah stretches out on the soft earth next to him.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” she asks. “Like, just getting off this shithole planet. Going somewhere else.”

“Every day. But there’s no way I’m joining Starfleet,” he replies. There’s venom in the word Starfleet; he can’t be fond of it, not when his mom gives them as an excuse for staying away another year and his dad’s legacy is attached to his neck like a chain.

“There are other ways to leave.”

“Like what? Being a cargo pilot?”

Leah sighs. “Sure.” The way she says it, Jim thinks he’s missed the point.

“So where would you go?” He asks, stretching out beside her. Despite having his face pressed into her back a few minutes ago, this is the closest he’s ever felt. Not just to her; to anyone.

“Nowhere.”

“You have to go somewhere.”

“No, I don’t. Planets are crap. Everywhere is the same: some asshole thinks they’re on top, and everyone else is stuck licking the proverbial boot. Most people can stand it. But I want to be up there,” she says quietly, stretching her hand out towards the dark sky. “In the space between the stars.”

Jim follows her gaze, and he can see it. Drifting through the endless black, with only distant stars for company. It’s lonely, but so is living here.  
He turns on his side and finds Leah staring at him. Before he can say anything and ruin everything like he always does, her lips find his, and he thinks maybe it wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

 

  
Jim doesn’t see her for the rest of spring break, but he doesn’t seek her out. Whatever they built in the barn is new, and if makes him nervous then she must be scared stiff. So he gives her time and goes about making hell on his own.

She’s not in school either. The first class passes without her, then the first day, then three days. Neither of them has skipped school more than two days in a row, and he’s starting to worry. Maybe Leah’s crappy substitute parent is worse than he thought; maybe she’s at home growing bruises or worse. A week passes, and Jim resolves to find her.

The house is abandoned. He knows it's hers because they’ve stolen the car from the garage a few times. Only now there’s no car in the garage, and when he looks in the window the furniture has collected a blue-gray layer of dust. Of course, she’s gone; she told him when they first met that she never expected to stay. But it still hurts.

Before Jim can even find his footing again, he's sent off to live with his brother on Tarsus IV. Three months later, Jim comes back. His brother doesn't. The Kirk family is thrown into a new type of crisis, and Jim quickly forgets about Leah in the aftermath of a funeral and therapy and shouting matches with anyone and everyone, especially Winona. Before school starts again she’s gone on another mission, leaving Jim with her newest boyfriend, a threat to be good or else, and anger that’s dangerously close to bubbling over. Jim does his best to break the record for the most repeat-offenses in Iowa, and he never once looks up at the space between the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the Narada, aka how Jim almost lost the Enterprise

The red alert siren blasted in his ears and Jim desperately wished it would turn off . It screamed at him every other second, warning him of danger, and underneath the scream it sounded like Admiral Pike. “I’m giving you the Enterprise.” Jim did his best to ignore it.  
Nero’s massive ship yawned in front of him. Behind it was the void. It wasn’t the deep black of space; this void was darker, sucking in everything, even stars. Even Nero’s ship. Except Nero’s ship just sat there, somehow defying the massive gravity well pulling everything else in. Jim could feel it in his chest, pulling on him. He had to get out of there.

Jim dashed around the bridge from one station to another, but it was too much. He couldn’t keep up. A sharp crack shot through the bridge, and he looked up with horror to see the window beginning to fracture.

“Spock!” He shouted into the comm. “Spock! Sulu! Where are you?” 

The phone answered back with static. “Damn it!” 

The Enterprise shuddered, and another crack appeared in the hull. Jim swore and set about rerouting the power. With each second, the Enterprise shook and pulled closer to the black hole.

“I’m giving you the Enterprise,” the siren wailed.

“Come on, come on. Spock!” He shouted into the comm again. His voice cracked hard.

“What are you doing, Cadet?”Spock’s voice answered from behind him. Jim spun, relief flooding his still aching chest. 

“Spock! Help me!” The Vulcan surveyed the scene, taking in the growing branches of cracks. He stood stiffly in front of the chair in perfect parade rest. There was no hint of urgency around him. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Help me!” Jim shouted.

“The more accurate question is what are you doing, cadet?” For a split second, Spock’s voice sounded exactly like Pike. “You don’t belong here.”

Jim froze like a deer in headlights. The weight of gravity on his chest kept pulling him back, back, back towards the deep black.

“I’m giving you the Enterprise.”

“Did you honestly think you could run the ship? You are a rogue, dishonest, selfish, arrogant kid from Iowa who was suspended for cheating on a final exam.” A crack opened up on the floor between Spock’s feet, wide and gaping.  
“Spock- the ship! We have to get out of here!”

“You don’t deserve the Enterprise, Kirk.” Spock-Pike spat. “You don’t deserve to be captain.”

“Fine! You take command then! Just- we gotta go!” The ship groaned again and tilted violently. It took all Jim’s effort to lurch forward towards the turbo. Spock followed him with his eyes, radiating disapproval.

“Don’t be foolish, Jim. That’s unnecessary.”

“I’m giving you the Enterprise.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s no need. It’s too late; the ship is already dead. So are we.”

“What?”

Between the sounds of spreading cracks, Jim heard a horrible, wet thump. Outside the bridge window was a field of red, yellow, and blue. The pressure on Jim’s chest was unbearable.

“You failed, cadet,” Spock told him in Pike’s voice. 

“I’m giving you the Enterprise.”

The web of cracks spread across the glass, cutting through the bodies on the other side until they were so thick he couldn’t see anything. His heart hammered so hard Jim thought it might burst right through his chest. And then the glass shattered and he hurtled forward through the field of bodies into the deep black void.

\-------------------------------------------------

For a split second, Jim thought he might still be falling towards the black hole. Then his eyes adjusted to the dark of his room. “Lights 30%,” he muttered. The sheets were twisted around his legs like they were trying to tie him down, and his heart pounded away in his chest, but he took long, slow breaths as soft light filled the shadowy corners. The steady energy of the ship hummed through him, calming his nerves. For a moment he considered going back to bed, but Pike’s words still rang in his head. Sleep wasn’t going to be returning for a while.  
Although the Enterprise’s crew kept a rotating three-shift schedule, it still had the rhythm of night and day. Jim’s footsteps were the only ones padding down the quiet, bright corridor down to the rec room. With each footstep, he heard Pike: “I’m giving you the Enterprise.”  
Those had been his first words when Jim had come to visit him in the medical bay. Pike had slept for the first few days after his rescue; Jim couldn’t say he blamed him. There hadn’t been much external physical damage, but Nero had not been a kind host by any standards. When he’d first found him strapped to that table, Jim’s heart nearly stopped. He’d looked so old. But after rest and a lot of gentle nagging from McCoy, Pike had been deemed well enough for a debriefing. Jim had straightened his uniform, prepared a PADD, and marched right into Pike's room to hear those words.

Pike’s command had pushed everything else from Jim’s mind. He’d protested with every method he knew; he wasn’t qualified, he hadn’t even graduated, he was suspended, he’d broken regulations, disobeyed commands. He had a thousand reasons to argue against the offer, and Pike dismissed them all. At the very end, he’d simply cut him off with that stern stare of his that could make even a Vulcan straighten up and pay attention. “Son,” he said. “You’ve got two options here. Either you take the Enterprise, or you take a court-martial for breaking every rule in the book. It’s up to you.” And Jim, ever the fool, accepted. Then the nightmares started.

As he headed to the rec room, Jim went over the argument again in his head. He could keep the command until they got back to Earth; that was simple, temporary like everything else in his life. But he’d never really thought about what would happen next, and now it was all he could think about.

The rec room was probably his favorite spot on the Enterprise, next to the Chair of course. There were usually a few people lingering, talking, playing card games. Becoming a family. Now though, there was only Jim and the deep black. Most of the room was standard colors, but one wall had been turned into a massive window looking out at the stars. Transparent aluminum of course and Scotty had said something about plans to implement holographic tech into the window so the crew could have a change of scenery at a moment’s notice.  
Jim flopped back on his spot on the couch, right in front of the window, and tried to lose the last shadows of the dream.

Stars passed slowly by the window as the ship made her way through the vast ocean of space. While ejecting their warp cores had saved them from the black hole, it had made the return trip to Earth about two months longer than it usually was. Jim couldn’t say he minded; watching the distant white dots slip slowly by had a calming effect.  
Ever full of energy, Jim soon grew restless with stargazing and pulled out his PADD. He still felt hesitant about his official appointment, but he’d do his job nonetheless. There were the standard reports to sort through, as well as updates on the attempts to boost the engine’s power and manage their supplies. And then there were debriefings; each crew member had to submit their own report on the Narada incident, and it was Jim’s job to read each of them. Most of them were fine, boring even. But there had been a handful that tied knots in his stomach.

“First Officer Kirk attacked two security personnel in an attempted mutiny.”

“When questioned by acting Captain Spock, Kirk grew argumentative and provoked the acting Captain into a physical confrontation.”

“Despite having knowledge of the gravitation effects of a black hole, Acting Captain Kirk insisted on firing on the Narada, which was already caught in the black hole and would have been with absolute certainty destroyed. By doing so, Acting Captain Kirk endangered the lives of his crew to an extreme degree.”  
Every one of those words had closed his throat a little more. But tonight there were no scathing reviews of everything he’d done wrong; just inventories and updates and peace.  
Quiet footsteps startled Jim, and he jerked upright in his seat. He couldn’t remember if he’d been reading a report or sleeping, but the fact that he didn’t know made him think it was the latter. He half turned, expecting to see Bones or maybe Chekov- the boy sometimes stayed up into the wee hours, blaming his insomnia on time zone differences. Jim let him. But the man in blue looking equally startled was neither of them.

“I apologize if I’ve disturbed you,” Spock said in that stiff fashion that still somehow conveyed emotion. Now, though, it was simply cold. Maybe that in itself said something about how Spock felt.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jim assured him. “I was just working.”

“Then I shall let you return to it,” Spock replied, and turned to go.

Jim stood, knocking the PADD to the floor. He didn’t care. “Hey, wait, hang on.”  
Spock turned back, quirking that eyebrow that seemed to have a life of its own, and waited for Jim to continue. “Listen, Spock. I’m sorry. For everything.” The eyebrow stayed in place, and Jim kept going. “I’m sorry about Vulcan and your mother and Pike making me first officer and all that crap I said to get you out of the chair. It... I didn’t mean it. And I know that’s not an excuse, but I want you to know that I know. I know you loved her. And if anyone said that kind of shit about my mom, I’d do exactly the same thing, only I’d actually kill them. So I’m sorry,” he finished lamely.  
Spock regarded Jim for exactly three heartbeats, gave the tiniest nod, and left. Jim stood, backed by the deep black and countless stars, and stared at the spot Spock had left. Too many emotions swirled around in his head, most of them some variation of confusion, but he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d done something right for once.

\-------------------------------------------------

Jim took a deep breath and braced himself. It was painful, even more than Bones’ hyposprays, but it had to be done. Jim counted slowly to three, let his breath out in a long, slow sigh, and opened the latest report from Engineering.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew how to read basic navigational charts, and he could navigate physics and calculus like a pro, but he had his limits. The combined works of Mr. Montgomery Scott and Mr. Pavel Chekov were one of them. Aside from being extremely complex, their theories and methods were all over the place. They’d start on one problem, then trail off into an equation for an entirely different subject that was usually entirely theoretical. And apparently, both of them had near-illegible handwriting.  
Jim started at the top, muttering furiously to himself as he tried to work his way through their processes. This was their latest attempt at getting the Enterprise home faster, so it was important. Jim just wished they would use actual words instead of arrows and indecipherable abbreviations. 

After five minutes, Jim thought he could actually get into it. Still muttering, he refilled his mug at the coffee station and headed back to his quarters. The dining commons were a good place to distract himself, but if he hoped to make any progress on the report he’d be better off in his own space.

The door to his quarters slid open automatically, and he stepped inside and almost directly into a blue shirt. Thankfully he pulled up at the last minute, although not without spilling some coffee on himself. 

“Spock,” he said, surprised and somewhat awkward. Way to make a captain-ly impression. “You know this is my room, right?”

“I am aware,” Spock replied. Jim could swear he heard a combination of sarcasm and amusement in the Vulcan’s tone as Spock glanced pointedly to the pile of laundry hastily stuffed in the corner. No doubt Spock’s room was the picture of regulation perfection. 

“Sorry. I just mean… what are you doing here?”

“I came to discuss the Science department’s progress on replicating dilithium crystals. But if you are busy, I can return at a later date.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Jim set both the PADD and the mug on his desk, trying nonchalantly to straighten the mess of notebooks and logs and probably failing. “Do you mind if I change?”

This time Spock paused. Jim turned just in time to catch the barest hint of surprise being shoved unceremoniously from the Vulcan’s face. “Not at all,” he replied, mastering the smooth, emotionless tone effortlessly.

Maybe he’d been too forward, too personal. Vulcans probably never saw each other naked unless absolutely necessary. What would that even be like? Jim pushed the thought from his mind and shed his shirt into the dirty pile by his bed. Whatever the reason for Spock’s reaction, he made sure to pull on a clean one as quickly as possible.  
When he returned, he found Spock thoughtfully examining the 3D chess set collecting dust on the coffee table.

“You can borrow it if you want,” Jim offered. And Spock actually jumped. It was small, more of a minute jerk than a full-on reflex, but it was definitely there. Someone’s jumpy today, Jim thought.

“Thank you for the offer, Captain, but I lack a partner to play against,” Spock replied, cool as ever.

“It’s Jim.” He could never ask Spock to call him Captain, not after everything that had happened between them. Spock cocked his head thoughtfully. Jim suddenly had the impression of being a fascinating specimen about to be caught and stuffed and cleared his throat awkwardly. “And if you want a challenge, I’d be happy to give it a go.”

For a second he thought Spock might decline, but instead, he nodded, almost to himself. “It would be an interesting experiment.” He sat in the armchair almost casually, and Jim, warily curious, took the seat opposite. “I will take the black if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” Jim, still fascinatedly perplexed, took the first move. Spock immediately countered. About four moves in, Jim lost his confusion to the focus of the game. They hardly spoke between shifting the pieces, but somehow it felt like they were speaking volumes. Jim grinned when he made a move that furrowed Spock’s brow, and Spock, in turn, raised that impossible eyebrow when he thought he’d made an uncounterable move. In the end, Spock won, but it was a close thing.

“Good game, Spock,” Jim said, offering his lost king to Spock.

“Thank you, Captain. You played admirably as well.”

“Seriously, Spock. It’s Jim.”

The Vulcan cocked his head again, but this time a faint smile touched his lips. “I quite enjoyed the game, but I believe I have neglected my primary purpose for coming here.” He moved to pick up the PADD again but Jim glanced at the clock and jumped up.

“Shit! I’ll take a crack at it later, but I’m on shift in less than a minute.”

Spock inclined his head in what Jim assumed to be a nod. “Very well. Perhaps we could discuss the details tomorrow?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Jim clapped Spock on the shoulder as he left. Spock followed him out of the room but paused just outside the door. Jim cast a curious glance over his shoulder as he hurried down the corridor and caught a glimpse of Spock studying the small white king in his hand.

\-------------------------------------------------

Spock came back the next evening, as promised. He and Jim talked late into the night- or what passed for night on the Enterprise- about the science department’s latest attempts to extend their supplies and the slow efforts to contact Starfleet with their location. Being stranded out in space wasn’t a life-threatening situation, not as long as they had replicators and dilithium crystals, but it wasn’t ideal. Every day Jim found himself more restless, more anxious. Aside from directing the self-sustainment and communication projects, there wasn’t much for him to do. He wasn’t that skilled at setting up transmissions, and in-depth science was out of the question completely. More often than not he had to resist the temptation to pace the bridge, just for something to do. The chess game with Spock had been his first real distraction in weeks.

As they spoke, Jim noticed Spock twirling the white king idly. In his experience, Vulcans weren’t ones for unnecessary movement, and he wondered if it was a quirk of Spock’s human half or something more meaningful. Either way, he smiled.

“Up for a re-match?”

Spock startled, looking down at the piece as though he was just noticing it for the first time. “I would not wish to impose on your time, Captain.”

Jim waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. And seriously. It’s Jim.”

“Apologies; as you are my commanding officer, for the time being, I thought it would only be appropriate to address you by your title.”

“Well I’m off duty now,” Jim replied, smiling in an attempt to lighten the mood. Or Spock’s mood at least. “So it’s Jim.”

“Jim.” Spock rolls the name in his mouth, like a little kid trying a new food for the first time. Curious, but unsure whether they like it. Then Spock’s mouth twitches in the barest of smiles, and Jim grins widely. “Very well. However, since you are the captain I believe you should take the first move.”

“Oh no.” Jim turned the 3D board so the white pieces faced him. “You won last time. You go first.”

Spock’s mouth twitched again, but he placed his white king in its spot and considered the board.

Seven moves in, Jim decided to say something. “You should’ve been made Captain.”

For a moment he thought maybe he hadn’t even said it out loud, and then Spock moved his knight. “I disagree.”

“What?” Jim nearly knocked over his rook in surprise. 

“I believe Admiral Pike made a wise choice as to the matter of his successor.”

“But he made you acting captain before he left.”

“Because I was the next commanding officer at the time. I was the logical choice. And against both logic and recommendation, he appointed you to first officer.”

“And a fat lot of good I did! You kicked me off the ship for mutiny!”

“But you were correct, in the end,” Spock pointed out. His bishop moved almost halfway across the board.

“I got lucky.” Jim’s knight took the bishop. 

“You had good instincts.”

“I got lucky,” Jim repeated. He and Spock took their turns in quick succession, the muffled thump of chess pieces absorbing the quiet.

Spock studied the board intently, then turned his gaze to Jim. “If you decide to refuse command of the Enterprise upon our return, I shall not hold it against you. But I will not bear a grudge either, should you choose to keep it.”

Jim met Spock’s gaze and read absolute sincerity in his dark eyes. They reminded him of the deep black just outside the hull. “Thanks, Spock.” His eyes returned to the board, moving his rook to its final place. “And I believe that’s checkmate.”

That faint smile broke through Spock’s face again. “Well played. As I said, you have good instincts.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Spock.” Jim’s PADD beeped. The screen helpfully informed him that he had almost a dozen things to take care of, and he inwardly groaned. “I suppose that’s me.”

“Forgive me, Captain. I’ve intruded on your work.”

“Nah. I had fun.” Jim followed Spock to the door, not quite wanting him to leave. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“It would be my pleasure. But I would not expect to win so easily in the future.”

“Is that a challenge.”

“Merely a warning. Captain.” Spock’s head inclined, and Jim returned with a smirk.

“Mr. Spock.” The door slid closed between them, and suddenly the work on his desk didn’t seem nearly as daunting.

\-------------------------------------------------

Spock came back the next night and the next. Soon Jim didn’t even have to invite him; it was simply an expected thing. Often they’d play at least one game of chess; Jim was a surprising match to the Vulcan’s logic. Spock usually won, but not every time. Sometimes Bones would join them, and admonish Jim for some stupid past misadventure or argue with Spock about logic and reason. Sometimes Jim would be too tired or overwhelmed with things to do. Uhura had finally made contact with Starfleet, and although the signal was slow and patchy to come through, the Admirals on Earth seemed determined to give Jim as much work as possible in the form of damage and supply reports, debriefings, and updates. It had been decades since such a long-term voyage was attempted, and they wanted to know every detail of it.  
On those nights, Spock simply worked alongside him. While Jim muttered away to himself, Spock read quietly through the science department’s reports and odd bits of scientific journals he’d been meaning to catch up on. If he found something especially interesting, he’d call Jim over. Jim didn’t always understand the more complex theories, but he liked listening to the Vulcan’s low, warm voice explaining the gist of it. More and more he found himself asking for Spock’s opinion on this matter or that, just to hear him talk. And, not surprisingly, Spock’s ideas were usually better than his.

“If I gave up the Enterprise, would you take it?” He asked one day, out of the blue. A schematic of the ship hovered in the air above his PADD.

Spock considered the question. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t believe I would.”

“Why not?” Jim’s brow furrowed. Spock was an officer. Sure his branch of command was science, but he’d been first officer under Pike, and then acting captain without any sign of complaint. Why he wouldn’t take up the mantle again was a mystery.

“I find that commanding the ship in its entirety leaves little opportunity for more scientific pursuits. Contrary to what you may believe, I was perfectly satisfied with my position as head of the Science Department prior to my promotion.”

“So why’d you become Pike’s first?”

Spock cocked his head slightly. “I trusted him. And I thought he made a good captain; under those circumstances, it seemed only logical to lend my services and advice as needed. I did not mind the work, so long as it served a noble purpose.”

“Huh.” Jim looked back down at the schematic, poking it with his finger to make it spin through the air.

\-------------------------------------------------

The end of their self-imposed isolation came all too soon. The Enterprise had stranded herself far out in deep space, but after a few weeks of travel, they were well within Federation space. Coordinates were sent, and a ship was found to tow the Enterprise back to Earth for repairs. Everything rushed back into full swing as preparations were made for the return home.  
Spock retreated to his lab, McCoy to his medical bay. Jim didn’t mind too much; he had plenty of his own work to do. But he missed their company. The 3D chess board sat abandoned on the coffee table, the last game not quite finished. At this point he could practically predict Spock’s next move, what he might say about a particular Admiral’s message. But it wasn’t the same as having him there.

And then they were back on Earth and there were press conferences and meetings with state leaders and appointments with Admirals and in the thick of it all, Spock disappeared.  
Bones remained a blissful constant, and probably too many nights they went out for a drink or two, just to relax. With his new position and the esteem of Starfleet Jim offered to get Bones a post Earth-side. Bones responded with a lot of swearing and a threat to deck Jim if he even tried to leave Bones behind.

One by one, the crew submitted their applications or sent letters or laughed flat out in his face when he offered better positions elsewhere. Uhura actually yelled at him in every language she knew until he snorted coffee out his nose and promised to keep her at her station on the bridge.

Through it all, there was no sign of Spock. But he had bigger problems to worry about.

\-------------------------------------------------

In all the rushing aftermath of defeating a genocidal Romulan from the future, Jim had completely forgotten to call his mom. He soon came to regret that decision; exactly two weeks after they’d made port on Earth, Winona Kirk called.

Jim steeled his nerves and smiled. “Hi Mom,” he said, trying his best to sound unconcerned. Maybe if he acted like nothing was wrong, she would buy it.

“James Tiberius Kirk, you son of a bitch,” she started, and he immediately winced.

“Language,” he tried, but she plowed right over him.

“Do you know how long it took me to hear word about you? Twelve days! I’ve been worrying my mind out for over a week, not knowing the first thing about if you were alright or what happened until some poor soul from Starfleet decided to send us an incidental report. And did you think to call in that whole time? Not even a message saying ‘hi mom, I’m not dead or lost in some godforsaken black hole’. You know what happens when you fall in a black hole? Well trust me you don’t want to know but for the better part of a week I couldn’t catch a wink of sleep for worrying that your body had been stretched thinner than a string of spaghetti caught in an endless gravity well and-”

“Mom!” Jim managed to cut her off. The smile had faded from his face when he saw exactly how worried Winona had been. Deep bags sat under her eyes, and she’d grown a few new gray hairs in her ponytail since they’d last talked. The new guilt of not calling sooner added itself to the growing pile of things he’d done wrong. “I’m sorry. I meant to call sooner but I’ve been so… it’s crazy here, mom. You heard about Vulcan, right?”

She nodded, a strand falling forward into her face. “Yeah, I did. Hon, I am so sorry; no one should ever have to see something like that. Are you doing alright?”  
Jim wanted to nod and smile and brush it off, and he did. Winona saw through it right away. “Cut the crap, Jim. Tell me what’s really going on.” 

Blue eyes met blue, and the whole story came spilling out. The drill, Spock’s mother, the mutiny, melding with Spock prime. All those emotions that came flooding into his mind the second Spock’s fingers met his, first on the ice planet then again when Spock was trying to kill him. The fight on Earth. The way Pike looked strapped to that table. The cracks that punctured the hull. The dreams of falling into an endless void that kept coming back long after the black hole disappeared. 

Winona sat quietly and listened to it all. When he’d finished, she put her fingertips to the screen, the way they’d done when Jim was little and he missed her so much he wanted to crawl through the video into her arms. “Oh Jim,” she said, and that was more than enough. One hot tear followed another down his cheeks, and he let them. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed. He hated how much like a child he sounded, but if anyone could offer any kind of advice, it was her. “Everyone keeps telling me what a huge mistake I’d make turning down the Enterprise but I’m scared. I was so sure I was right that I almost got everyone killed. What if next time I’m wrong and everyone else suffers because of me? ”

“Well, Jimmy,” she started. “I know you’re not going to like hearing this but I have to say it: I agree with everyone else. You’d be a fool to turn this down.”

“But mom-”

“Hear me out. You’re disobedient, careless, more stubborn than a mule, and quick to judge. But none of those things make you a bad captain. What makes you a bad captain is thinking you’re better than everyone else, that your judgment alone is the right one.”

“But I did; I was so convinced that going back to Earth was the right thing and what if I was wrong?”

“But you weren’t,” Winona reminded him gently. “And from what I’ve heard, that wasn’t pure cockiness. You considered the judgment of others, you considered the facts and the tactical advantages and disadvantages, and you made a choice. In my experience, which I’ll remind you I have a lot more of than you do, that’s the hallmark of a good captain.”

Winona had always been right in the past. She’d been right that he shouldn’t climb that tree, and that boy was no good for him, and Pike wasn’t as much of a stick in the mud as the other officers. And she was right about this; Jim knew it, deep in his gut. Still, he couldn’t get it through his head.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not… I’m not taking the Enterprise. I’m not Captain.”

“And that’s exactly the kind of cocky, pig-headed mindset that I’m telling you don’t have. Jim, look at me. Do you honestly think Christopher would entrust you with the flagship if he didn’t see the makings of a captain in you? And what about my judgment, or Uhura’s, or Leonard’s? Do you really think our judgment is that bad?”

“What if you’re all wrong?”

“Then trust yourself,” Winona said simply as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “That’s the hardest part about being a captain, but trusting yourself on this is a good first step.”  
Jim’s fingertips met the screen again. Winona mirrored him. They held it for a moment, two people on opposite sides of the galaxy trying their best to close the distance.

“I love you, Jimmy,” Winona told him quietly.

“I love you too, mom.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Jim stared at the line of yellow-gold shirts pressed neatly in the closet. They were all his size and matched his dirty-straw hair, but they didn’t feel like his. He took one, just to make sure it was real and ran his thumb along the Starfleet insignia. The metal felt cool under his thumb. The regulation uniform looked much cleaner and more formal than his civvies; beat up jeans and an old leather jacket that looked out of place on the shiny new starship. A memory darted through his mind, of a dusty old barn at the edge of spring, two kids looking gazing at the stars and Jim swearing he’d never be exactly where he was now. He wondered if Leah had settled down somewhere, disappointing her past self. She’d probably laugh at his sorry ass if she could see him now. Hell, he would’ve laughed at himself. A Starfleet Captain. And yet, Captain James T. Kirk had a nice ring to it. Jim smiled to himself and pulled the shirt over his head.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Spock’s voice asked over the chatter on the bridge. 

Jim looked up at the Vulcan. Part of him was tempted to point out that Spock was technically already aboard. Vulcans loved technicalities, after all. Instead, he just smiled and said, “Permission granted.” Starting off their first mission with a joke might not be the best idea.

“As you have yet to select your first officer, I would like to submit my application for the position,” Spock said, striding across the room with purpose like he owned the ship. He had, at one point, and Jim wondered if Spock resented him for taking away his chance at captaincy. If he did, the classic Vulcan face betrayed nothing. Jim considered him for a moment. Spock was definitely qualified for the position, but there was something else, too. Despite their initial and many differences, he’d seen trust in Spock’s eyes on the Narada. Whatever else Spock felt for Jim, he trusted him, and that was enough.

Jim stood to meet Spock face to face. “It would be my honor, commander.” And it was true, he realized. Spock, for all his rule-following and robot-like expressions, was a fantastic officer. No doubt they would clash again in the future, but Jim was excited to see how it would play out. 

The question of first officer settled, Jim sat back in his seat and watched the stars align before them. In between the stars, he heard Leah say, and smiled. “Punch it, Mr. Sulu,” he commanded, and they shot away into the deep black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where the story really begins, and everything starts from here. Also Winona Kirk was a good mom and you can fight me about it.


	3. The Art of Not Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes saving the world together isn't quite enough; Jim and Spock still have issues and/or repressed feelings to work out, and running into an old friend probably won't help.  
> Chapter Song: Egyptian Reggae by Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers

Jim leaned to one side in his chair and tried to look nonchalant. The bridge crew were performing the same charade, but an undertone of anticipation buzzed through ship like electric currents. A new planet needed to be studied, categorized, and possibly introduced to the Federation. Big things were expected from all of them, and that meant more work, but it also meant a chance at something exciting.

“Standard orbit achieved, Captain,” Sulu reported. The blue-green edge of the planet curved out the window, practically begging to be explored.

“Maintain orbit and standard communications. Let Starfleet know we’ve arrived and we’re beginning surveillance.” The bridge was a flurry of activity as everyone prepared for the coming work. “Mr. Spock, you have the comm.” Jim was out of his seat and halfway to the door before Spock’s disapproving expression appeared in his face.

“Captain, you do not intend to beam down with the exploratory crew?” It was phrased like a question, but the way Spock said it it sounded like a mother telling her child not to play in the dirt. 

“Is that a problem, Mr. Spock?” Jim was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the senior bridge crew watching him. 

“Regulation states that until the planet has been properly surveyed and classified, senior personnel are recommended not to transport to the surface.”

“Yeah, recommended. Technically it’s not an order.” Jim hoped that the technicality would sway Spock, or at least put him off until they could continue later, in private.

“All the same, I strongly recommend that you remain here.” Spock’s eyes bored into Jim’s, deep pools meeting sky blue. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Chekov and Sulu exchanging a look. Finding compromise with a Vulcan was tricky, and despite working together for almost a year now, they still hadn’t landed on a common ground. 

Jim took in a breath to argue. A memory flashed through his mind, of shouting and fighting and getting put on time-out on a frozen planet. With a well placed, easy smile, Jim backed down. “You’re right, Mr. Spock. I’ve probably got more paperwork than I need anyway. Good call,” he said, clapping Spock on the shoulder. “I’ll be in my quarters; keep me updated on the shore team’s progress.”

The doors hissed closed behind Jim, cutting him off from Spock’s gaze. His hands curled into fists at his side, then released just as quickly. It had been a handy excuse, but he did have a lot of work to do. Might as well start on it sooner rather than later. Still shaking off his discomfort and any simmering anger, Jim sat himself at his desk and opened his PADD to the first report.

 

 

Someone knocked on the door, and Jim gratefully pulled himself from re-reading a geology report for the third time. Whose bright idea was it to invent twelve different kinds of rocks, anyway? “Come in,” he called, doing his best to sound like he’d been avidly reading the whole time.

Spock, in all his stiff, formal, perfectly-maintained uniformed glory stepped across the threshold. Jim’s eyes briefly flicked to the chessboard and their last unfinished game. At the moment they were tied, 42-42. If he wasn’t quite so annoyed and overwhelmed with work, he might’ve invited Spock to finish breaking the tie. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and radiated mild irritation. “Can I help you, Mr. Spock?”

“Yes; I came to inform you that the first away team has returned, navigation has finished their scans of the planet, and beta shift has rotated onto the bridge.” 

Was it that late already? Jim glanced down at his PADD. New information had flooded in; reports and scientific analysis and status updates from the ship. It would take hours to sort through. The irritation increased. “Thanks, Spock. I’ll take a look at the reports before tomorrow.”

“Of course captain. Although, I should mention that Starfleet made a point of asking for the geological specifications as soon as possible.”

“Yeah I got it, Spock.” It came out more of a snap than he’d meant to, but he didn’t apologize. “I know how to do my job.”

Spock, if Vulcans could, looked taken aback. An eyebrow raised itself towards his hairline. “I did not mean to imply otherwise”

“Yeah, well it sure sounded like it on the bridge.”

The eyebrow went down, narrowing with it’s partner over Spock’s dark eyes. “As your first officer, it is my duty to advise you on various matters, including your own activities as they pertain to the ship.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed to match Spock’s. “Advise. Not command. And not in front of the entire damn crew.”

“In the future, I will try to make my comments more discreet. However, I cannot allow you make reckless decisions, heedless of regulation or safety.”

“Dammit Spock, that’s half of what being a Captain is!”

His first officer stayed silent, cocking his head just slightly. Jim suddenly felt very much like an new scientific specimen, and it did nothing to help his anger. “If that’s all, you can go.” Spock studied him for another heartbeat, then spun and left as quickly as he’d come in. Jim stared at the empty space he left, closing his eyes slowly. As much as he hated to admit it, Spock was right. It was his job to keep Jim in line and out of trouble, something Jim sorely needed. Even when he was trying, he couldn’t help breaking the rules just a little. Without someone checking him, odds were he’d crash and burn long before Starfleet discharged him. He needed someone like Spock, but he hated to admit it more than anything. Jim ran a hand over his face and turned back to reading about goddamn rocks.

 

 

“Captain on ze bridge,” Chekov chimed as Kirk stepped off the turbo lift, mug of coffee in hand. It was his third one this morning, but staying up all night reading reports and managing expeditions tended to make him tired.

“Alright gentlemen, how’s our planet looking today?”

Chekov and Sulu launched into alternating status reports on weather, geological formations, magnetic fields, and a host of other information. Jim half listened; the other half took stock of who was on deck. Spock was noticeably absent.

“Has the away team left yet?”

“Yes; Commander Spock’s party departed 20 minutes ago.”

An eyebrow arched on Jim’s forehead, though it probably didn’t look as impressive as that perfected Vulcan look. “Mr. Spock’s leading a party?”

“Yes sir. He’s going to oversee specimen collection and investigate reports of sentient life.”

“I see.” Jim’s hands curled around the armrests of his chair, but he kept his voice light. Infighting among commanding officers would only cause more problems.

A few hours through the shift, the final classification came in. The planet was well endowed with resources and life, including an atmosphere suitable for humans and most other Federation members. Surveys had found signs of life, but nothing advanced enough to consider contacting yet. With that in mind, Jim decided he’d had enough.

“Alright Mr. Sulu, I think everyone’s earned a break. Have small parties from the off-shits start beaming down for an hour or two to stretch, get some fresh air. No more than 6 people at a time, aside from the science team. You’ve got the Com, but keep me updated if Away finds anything interesting.”

“Yes, sir.” Sulu straightened in his chair. Jim caught the glance between Sulu and Chekov as he left; like kids being left home alone for the first time. As long as they didn’t set anything on fire, they’d be fine.

 

 

The planet looked even more beautiful up close. Bright red tree trunks stretched into the sun, spouting leaves in brilliant shades of scarlet, orange, gold, and pale yellow-white. The ground was littered with leaves, as well as blue and green wildflowers. Puffy white clouds dotted a pale violet-blue sky. 

Jim took a deep breath of the fresh air, then turned to the officers who’d beamed down with him. “Okay, as of now you’re all free to roam for the next hour. Navigation’s got this area pretty well surveyed. You should all have maps on your comms; don’t go farther than the boundaries. Science is still looking out for anything that may not want us here, or that may want us for dinner. Stay in pairs or groups, and have fun.”

With his safety speech concluded, Jim spun on his heel and headed into the undergrowth. There was a certain Vulcan he needed to have words with. 

They’d beamed down close to the science team, so Spock wasn’t hard to find. He seemed intently focused on an insect he’d captured in a small jar; its iridescent wings flickered as it examined its new glass prison.

“Spock,” Jim called, and then realized he had no idea what to say. “Can we talk for a second?”

“Certainly, Captain.” Spock handed the insect off to another officer and followed Jim a few trees farther from the team. 

Jim stopped when he thought they were out of earshot and tried to calm himself. “What the hell, Spock?” His calming techniques hadn’t worked.

“Captain?”

“You make this big deal about me not beaming down, and the next thing I know you’re leading the science expedition! Without even telling me!”

“As your First Officer, I had not thought it necessary to-”

“Cut the bullshit. If this is some weird Vulcan way of being an ass…”

“I do not possess the ability to turn myself into a Terran donkey, Captain.”

Jim might’ve laughed if he wasn’t so angry. No, angry wasn’t the right word. He’d never been angry with Spock; not during his trial for ‘cheating’, not when he’d kicked Jim off the ship for mutiny, and not now. No, he was frustrated and annoyed, and that was ten times worse than being angry. What made it even more rotten was the irrational yet certain feeling that Spock was doing it on purpose. Jim couldn’t help but admire Spock, at the same time he couldn’t help wanting to punch him. He was doing an excellent job of pushing Jim’s buttons while appearing innocent; a skill that Jim had all but mastered in his teens.

Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant. Look, we’re a team now, and we should be working together, not fighting about stupid rules and who answers to who.”

“I completely agree.”

“Good. So from now on, you’ll just let me do my thing as captain, and I’ll give you free rein when it comes to science, alright?”

Spock’s eyebrow _did the thing_ , and Jim just _knew_ that this wasn’t over. “I’m afraid I cannot abide by this arrangement, Captain. As I have already told you, it is my duty to advise you, especially on unwise decisions.”

“But they’re not!” Jim wanted to punch something or, better yet, grab Spock by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Suddenly he felt a strong sympathy to Bones. Maybe later he’d take him out for a drink. 

“To my mind, any action that carries great risk and little reward is almost always unwise. But please, elaborate.” Spock sounded like he was talking to a child, and Jim’s urge went from shaking to punching.

“Because-” Jim never got the chance to explain why, which was probably good since he didn’t have an explanation anyway. Both his and Spock’s comms went off, breaking their argument. Spock took his out, then glanced at Jim and lowered it.

It was a small concession, but Jim didn’t waste time thinking it over. “Kirk here.”

“We’ve got a problem, Captain,” said a breathless voice on the other end. “We’ve found a ship.”

 

 

They found the ship near the center of the valley. The scientist had been right; it was definitely a space-faring vessel, judging by the engines. The door on the side was sealed shut, but the owner had left a cargo door in the rear half open. 

“Spread out,” Jim ordered. “And get ready.” He took up a place against the wall next to the door, phasor at the ready. Spock stood next to him, phasor up close to his face.

“I must warn you that an attack like this is-”

“If the next word out of your mouth is ‘unwise’, I’m going to stun you,” Jim growled.

“Very well.” Spock sounded about as miffed as a Vulcan could get. Jim was secretly pleased; the tides of annoyance had turned. 

When everyone was in position, Jim nodded. “Go.” 

He ducked under the door alongside another officer. He didn’t have to check to know Spock was close behind. All their phasors were up and ready to fire at a moments notice. 

The cargo bay was small, but spacious. Only a few, lonely crates hid in the shadows. A door at the back revealed a pantry full of freeze-dried and canned food. Jim led the crew up a ladder to a hallway full of bedrooms, mostly unused but all empty. The hall let out into what looked like a living room, with couches, books, clothes, and a scattered deck of cards. One officer investigated the next ladder, which went up to a gunner’s turret, and another checked the engine room. Jim and Spock entered the cockpit that lacked a pilot, then regrouped in the living room. All their caution had been for nothing.

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Jim muttered, holstering his weapon. The others did the same. 

With the danger out of the way, Spock unhooked his tricorder and scanned the room. Jim stood close by and tried not to look like he was reading over Spock’s shoulder.

“Hey Captain,” one of the officers called. “Check it out.”

Jim abandoned Spock’s tricorder to join the man at the table. He tried to remember the officer’s name; it started with an H, he thought. Or maybe J.

“These are old playing cards from Earth,” officer H explained, twirling one of the stiff squares in his fingers. The seven of clubs. “My grandpa used to have a deck like this.”

“Huh.” His eye caught a box, discarded on the table, and he picked it up. The queen of hearts smiled at him from the front. The edges of the box were frayed and creased; clearly the deck had seen a lot of use. Something was written just under the flap. _L_ . _D_. Must be the owner.

“Captain,” said Spock from the center of the room. “My readings indicate that this ship belongs to a single human, late twenties. There are no signs of other crew.”

“Alright; single human. This’ll be a snap. Let’s set up by the door, and we can trap the owner when they come back.”

Spock’s tricorder hooked back onto his belt with a precise snap. “Although you may not wish to hear it, Captain, I find that move unwise.”

 _Here we go again_ , Jim thought. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Such a move carries both great physical risk and the chance that our subject may escape. I propose we beam down a search party to begin combing the area.”

“I might agree with you, Spock. If you were right. But a large party like that would only tip them off and give them plenty of time to hide, and then we’ll never find them.”

“I disagree strongly. A large enough party, moving methodically, would have a much greater chance of finding and apprehending the ship’s captain before they can escape.”

“Except for the fact that this is one person we’re talking about. One person in a wide, mostly uncharted area. It would be way too easy to disappear. No, we’re waiting here.”

“For how long, Captain? It could be hours until the owner returns, if they return at all. And what if they don’t? How long would you recommend we wait for your red herring, I believe is the term, until you realize our subject has had plenty of time to hide themselves and is probably long gone?”

“Actually,” chimed in a third voice, sweet and rough like honey with hard grains of comb running through it. “I think she probably wants her ship back.”

Captain and First Officer turned in perfect sync, fingers curled around the triggers before they could even pull the phasors from their belts. The woman stood on the threshold, with one arm slung just tight enough around Officer H’s neck and the other holding a gun to his head.

Cropped, not quite dark hair framed her face, full of amusement. She wasn’t smiling all the way, but Jim got the feeling she was laughing at them. It was in her eyes; those gold coin eyes. Officer H swore and Spock answered the woman, cool voice tinged with stress and just a little anger. It all registered with Jim, but he didn’t hear any of it. He was solely fixed on those glittering pirate eyes. “Leah,” he said, and she laughed.


End file.
